


aching lungs and dry eyes

by orangecrane



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Modern Era, This isn't really graphic, also might be kinda OOC but at this point idc, also the details of how the injuries were sustained is left at Spot got in a fight, injuries, its like some bruising a few scrapes and a cut lip, this is literally just Race taking care of Spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrane/pseuds/orangecrane
Summary: Race didn’t know who was at his door at half-past two in the morning, but if his apartment wasn’t burning down there’d be hell to pay for waking him up this early...."What the fuck happened to you?"
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	aching lungs and dry eyes

It was dark. The cold light of the streetlamps tinted the world orange and the chill of the night air was beginning to numb Spot’s fingers. Each breath burned his lungs and made his ribs ache. He shivers. Spot hadn’t planned on walking all the way to Race’s apartment, especially at this hour, but it was closer than his place and in his condition that was really all that mattered. His desire to see Race may have also been a factor, but after the shitty night he’d had, he figured he deserved to see the boy. It was one of the few things that always managed to make him feel better.

Exhaustion weighed Spot’s body like lead by the time he made it to Race’s apartment building. He hoped Race would answer the door, didn’t want to make his way back to his own apartment. Couldn’t. Ached every step he took, each stair he climbed. At least it was warm inside the building, though he hadn’t regained feeling in his hands by the time he was at Race’s door. Spot took a deep breath as he raised his hand to knock, breathing labored and knowing it would hurt. It did.

It took over a minute for Racer to open the door, Spot counted. One minute and twelve seconds to be exact. Though once Spot got a good look at him, hair messy from sleep, glasses practically falling off his face, and wearing only his boxers and an old t-shirt, that didn’t matter. Race had answered and Race would take care of him. He’d probably be pissed but he would only have been more upset if Spot hadn’t come. Cautious, having a good idea of what was coming, Spot asked, “Mind if I crash here tonight?”

\---

Race didn’t know who was at his door at half-past two in the morning, but if his apartment wasn’t burning down there’d be hell to pay for waking him up this early. So tired he could barely read the clock even after managing to grab his glasses. Considers pretending he didn’t hear the knock and just going back to sleep, but stumbled out of bed anyways. Starts making his way to the door before pausing to sneeze, three goddamn times, after turning on the lights. God Racer hated the lights. And whoever had woken him up. Didn't even bother to check who it is before wrenching open the door. Froze.

“Mind if I crash here tonight?”

Suddenly, Race wasn’t very tired anymore. He had to take a second to realize what exactly was in front of him. Spot stood there holding himself awkwardly, eye swollen, lip bleeding, knuckles bruised and bloodied. His breathing shallow and ragged. Race didn’t hesitate. Pulled the door open wide and practically drags Spot inside, “What the fuck happened to you?”

“S’ not a big deal. Just ran into the boys who’ve been givin’ you trouble lately, they were runnin’ their mouths again and I wasn’t just gonna let that slide.” Spot huffed, shifting in discomfort and staring holes through his feet.

“Spotty… ya didn’t need ta do that, I can take care of myself. Besides, what a few idiots think a’ me doesn’t matter. ‘Specially if it ends in you gettin’ soaked.” 

“Like I was gonna let them get away with sayin’ that shit. Besides, if ya think I'm soaked you should get a look at them.”

“Spot I don’t need you to do that. I need ya to not go around getting in fights over things that don’t matter, you can’t keep doin’ this!” Race raised his voice, cracking near the end. He was angry. Angry that Spot thought he couldn’t handle himself and angry that Spot had gotten hurt. Eyeing the drying blood on Spot’s chin he allowed the anger and hurt to fade to the back of his mind and concern to take it's place. “Just.. go sit down, we need ta get you cleaned up.”

Spot quietly made his way to Race’s room, chest aching. It was warm enough inside Race’s apartment that the air no longer burned his lungs, but taking deep breaths was still painful. He knew Race was disappointed in him but he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d done. Those guys needed to be taught a lesson. Race entered the bathroom, squinting at the too bright lights that were somehow even worse than the rest of the apartment. He quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and washed his hands before dampening a rag and making his way to the bedroom.

Spot looked so small sitting alone on Race’s bed, tired and beaten. Well, Spot always looked small to Race, the curse of being short, but now his walls were down and the tough-guy persona he usually put on was all but gone. Race made his way to Spot’s side and grabbed his hand to get a good look at it. Wouldn’t look anywhere but Spot’s hands. “You’re freezing.” Race commented, quiet. 

“Yeah, but it's warm in here, ‘nd the feeling's starting to come back.”

“Ok.” Race’s voice was barely above a whisper. Didn’t bother to vocalize his concern but made sure to hold Spot’s hand a little more than necessary. A little extra body heat never hurt anyone, and if Race just wanted to hold the boy he cared so much for while he was hurting then so be it. He made quick work of cleaning the scrapes and started to apply antiseptic to the open wounds before bandaging them.

“Ow.” Spot hissed, quiet.

“You wouldn't be in any pain right now if you hadn’t gone and gotten in a fight so quit yer whining, it's just a little sting.” Race snapped, finishing bandaging the scrapes, actions firmer than necessary and ignoring Spot’s complaints. He didn’t want Spot to suffer but those wounds had to be taken care of and he was still pretty pissed about him getting into a fight in the first place. Even as he moved to take care of his busted lip, Race still didn’t look him in the eyes. Gentler than with his hands, he grasped Spot’s face and began to wipe off the drying blood and deal with his lip. They were quiet until Race deemed that all of his visible injuries were taken care of. “‘S there anything else I gotta worry about?”

“No.” Race stared, finally meeting Spot’s eyes. Challenging. Race was not a person to be messed with when the people he cared about most were on the line.

“Don’t you dare lie to me Conlon.”

“...I think my ribs may be a bit bruised, ‘t still hurts to breathe.” Spot admitted softly, nearly a whisper as he trailed off near the end. Race’s eyes softened. He was tired and just wanted Spot to be okay. Decided. There would be time to talk about it more tomorrow, but for now he was going to get Spot some ice and then they were both gonna go to bed because it was now officially fuck o’clock in the morning and the adrenaline rush he’d gotten from finding Spot bruised and bloody on his doorstep was all but gone and he was utterly exhausted. Made Spot take off his shirt, just to check on the bruising, before grabbing some ice wrapped in a cloth from the kitchen. Turned off all the lights as he went back to Spot, thankful to be back in relative darkness, only the lamp in his and the dim glow of the streetlamps through the window illuminating the room. The old bulbs left everything bathed in a warm orange-ish glow. He handed Spot the ice without a word. Took off his glasses, turned off the lamp, and laid down. “‘M glad you came here. Don’t get me wrong, it was stupid of you ta get into a fight in the first place, but ’m glad you came to me.”

A pause.

“‘M sorry Race.” Spot spoke like he was forcing his voice to have volume, to be more than a whisper. A struggle, but sincere.

“I know...” he acknowledged the quiet apology. Better than most people would get out of Spot. For now, it would be enough. “I know.”

Spot quickly drifted off but Race laid there for what must have been an hour, staring into the darkness and listening to Spot’s breathing. They’d have to get his ribs checked out in the morning, just to make sure they weren’t broken. Race let his worry for the other boy race through his mind until he realized that Spot had fallen asleep with the ice still in place. Quiet and soft as he could, Race took the ice, mostly chilled water at this point, and dumped it into the sink before once again going to his room and lying down beside Spot. Wanted to curl into his side, hold and let himself be held, like he normally would. Didn't.

Careful not to disturb him, Race positioned himself so he was facing the other boy, propped up on one arm. Observed him, just for a minute, taking in all his facial features and the wounds that now adorned them. Even in sleep the echoes of pain shone through on his face. Race felt like crying. He was tired. Never wanted to see Spot hurt like this again, never wanted Spot in pain because of him. For someone who put so much effort into acting like he didn’t care about people, Spot sure did an awful lot for others. Race knew deep down, he would do just about anything for those he loved. Just wished that taking better care of himself was one of those things. “Being a reckless idiot is my job, if you’re bein’ stupid too, then what’re we gonna do?” It was a rhetorical question, Spot was asleep but Race still asked.

“Ya know, I told you not to fall in love with me.” Race whispered, fond, affectionate, and every bit as in love as Spot was. Bent down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“Right when we first met I told you that you’d get hurt and you went and did it anyways, dumbass.” He’d known then, that falling in love with a boy like himself was a dangerous game. That it’d end in someone getting hurt, bad, just never imagined it’d be like this. He probably should’ve been able to guess, knowing Spot as well as he did, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Always figured it’d be his own chaotic and destructive nature that hurt the other boy. Maybe that was an egotistical assumption.

It was nearly five by the time Race finally drifted to sleep, head filled with thoughts of kicking Spot’s ass for getting in a fight, once he had healed up. Then kissing him like his life depended on it, once they had moved past this and he wasn't as upset about Spot getting hurt.

They had a lot to work on, the two of them, but at least they weren’t doing it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry if this is kinda OOC but at this point I don't really care. I got this prompt from a friend and kinda ran with it.
> 
> Anyways feel free to leave any criticism or feedback in the comments! I know my writing needs a lot of work but its always helpful to know where I should be focusing.
> 
> If you actually read all this I'm sorry and thank you!


End file.
